sw00993sl31-impasse

 Impasse


Oh won't
you come
and live
with me?

    I would;
    but I can't,
    as you know,
    as you know.

Oh won't
you come
and live
with me?

    I would;
    but I can't,
    as you know,
    as you know.

Oh won't
you come
and live
with me?

    I would;
    but I can't,
    as you know,
    as you know.

    I would;
    but I can't,
    as you know,
    as you know.

    I would;
    but I can't,
    as you know,
    as you know.



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-29

sw00992s-poem30

Scatterings



 Repetitions 2


Spirits
          of flowers
spear
          through earth

Bodies
          of angels
breathe
          through air

Fire
          washes
Water
          burns

In rusting
          cages
gods
          men



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00991s-poem29

Scatterings



 Repetitions


redheads on bicycles

in the park          we remember

floating
              /
                  upturned      faces
                  blind            the sun



  (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert

sw00990s-poem28

Scatterings



 March 1, 1972


Snow streaks
waves    waves
through oaks and maples
my eyes 'n' bones
the hemorrhaged sky



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00989s-poem27

Scatterings



 Pattern


                         Life
Death

The spinning
                         of stars



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00988s-poem26

Scatterings



 Recognition and Resolve


Too long have I
lived in death

the frail armor of self-pity
the galleons of Romance

and let this century
dangle from my wrists

like rough
unwanted charms.

I will give my body
to the woman I love

delight the flowers
to their earthy soles

and the works of men
to their fingered highs.



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00987s-poem25

Scatterings



 Emptiness


*
Here we are
in the Rathskeller

with the deadly
poets of old

It is after
eight pm

Blue Tale Fly
is setting up

Between my thumb
and index finger

an Old Milwaukee bottle
edges around

**
My second time
at the Grand

The skin-flick's bad
yet makes me aware

we are locked in cages
of fantasies

where the rich earths
mix with the poor

***
Squat on the frontroom
rug with me

Let my voice
hold your spirit

Rocks don't want
waters to win

Wasps are at odds
with honey bees

Desires
rage through roses

Wrestlers
flip and groan



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00986s-poem24

Scatterings



 To ____


Stars fall,
and grasses . . .
and hearts. . . .

Wherever
light
slices,

I still move
and you move,
and stand apart:

pulsing,
changing,
denied.

Worlds turn,
touch.
Woosh!  Woom!



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00985s-poem23

Scatterings



 The air


              shifts




   swallows




                 light




voices






   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00984s-poem22

Scatterings



 Parable


as the hummingbird
                              gives to
                 in the wind

as the clover
                in the sun

as the stone
                in the rain



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00983s-poem21

Scatterings



 Reflection .5


It is almost
midnight again;

though I've looked at myself
continually,

when the moment comes
I know I

will be
the same.

Somewhere                    bells.

It is Sunday
morning again.



   (from the never-to-be A Tree Full of Wind)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert        2008-08-25

sw00982s-poem20

Scatterings



 Preface


Our atoms are so unstable now
we gladly return to

pyramids  aqueducts  spires
whatever

no longer lives--
a tree full of wind



[ Note: On February 5, 1972, I began in a small hardbound notebook
        what was intended to be a book of poems: A Tree Full of Wind. ]



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-25

sw00981sl30--humans-being

 Humans Being


Each turns to each.
Each turns to everyone.
When we really see,
We know who we are.

    (Recall a time when an other or others helped you.)

Each turns to each.
Each turns to everyone.
When we really see,
We know who we are.

    (Recall a time when you helped an other or others.)

Each turns to each.
Each turns to everyone.
When we really see,
We know who we are.

    (Recall whatever, and meditate on it.)

Each turns to each.
Each turns to everyone.
When we really see,
We know who we are.

    (Neither worldly wealth nor power nor fame
      can provide true joy.  What, then, can?)

Each turns to each.
Each turns to everyone.
When we really see,
We know who we are.



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-24

aoljaolPictureAdd, aoljaolPictureAdd_1

sw00980sl29-belldrum

 Bell Drum


Ring-ling-ling
ring-ah-ling-ling-ling
ring-ah-ling-ling-ling
ring-ah-ling

Ring-ling-ling
ring-ah-ling-ling-ling
ring-ah-ling-ling-ling
ring-ah-ling

    Boom-uh-boom-boom-boom
    boom-uh-boom-boom-boom
    boom-uh-boom-boom-boom
    boom-uh-boom

    boom-uh-boom-boom-boom
    boom-uh-boom-boom-boom
    boom-uh-boom-boom-boom
    boom-uh-boom



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-20

sw00979sl28-Why

 Why?


When we got married
Why'd you always close the door?
When we got married
Why'd you close the door?

When we got married
Why'd you always close the door?
When we got married
Why'd you close the door?

    Why'd you want to do that?
    Why'd you want to do that for?
    Why'd you want to do that?
    Why'd you want to do?

    Why'd you want to do that?
    Why'd you want to do that for?
    Why'd you want to do that?
    Why'd you want to do?



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-18

sw00978s-poem19

Scatterings



 Milwaukee


Another's child,
I enter you
tremulously
rising into
your    thirty-two
inspiritings,
the landmarked node
your downtown is,
the sweep of parks
that ease you to
Lake Michigan,
city of beers
and reataurants,
of festivals.

So average,
exceptional,
exuberant,
diamond uncut,
you represent
Wisconsin well,
touched as you are
by farms and lakes
and woods and care,
your industry,
inventiveness
world evident,
outlasting what
detracts from you.

Only those who
work for beauty
are the real men,
the real women;
so only when
I seek beauty
am I whole, real.
I honor those
who empathize,
sweat so others
in honest need
have food, shelter,
clothes, knowledge, heart,
wisdom, respect.

You, Milwaukee,
blessed with buildings
of special wealth,
are even more
special in your
citizens, so
many of whom
deeply love, their
differences
no barrier,
extending their
bodies / spirits
into the soil,
the true, the sky.


        7-23-80



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-16  

sw00977s-poem18

Scatterings



 Praise for Solzhenitsyn


In some ways I am
illiterate,
though I read and read.

I have not entered,
Alexander,
one of your books;

yet I know the countries
in them
cherish life;

so even
in my ignorance
I dance on a hill of clover

and breathe
the crisp winds
of your honesty

and feel
your homeland's leaders
also must

despite their preference
for shadows and lungs
heavy with soot.


                 (????)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert        2008-08-16

sw00976s-poem17

Scatterings



 Comfort


the shimmery laughs   of a willow


                            (????)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-16

sw00975sl27-Down

 Boating Down the Volga


Boating down the Volga/
boating down the Vo-olga.
Boating down the Volga/
down the Volga now.

Boating down the Volga/
boating down the Vo-olga.
Boating down the Volga/
down the Volga now.

    Where are all the sailors?
    Where are all the say-aylors?
    Where have all the sailors/
    down the Volga gone?

    Where are all the sailors?
    Where are all the say-aylors?
    Where have all the sailors/
    down the Volga gone?



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-13

sw00974s-poem16

Scatterings



Chess


About the game of chess I know: the queen
alone most wields the power--not the knights
(for all their fancy moving), not the bishops
(fervently diagonal), not the rooks
(uniquely armed), and surely not the pawns
(gutsy munchkins)--that moves their king

if, once in battle, moved he'll be, and king
indeed, well served, exalt thereby his queen,
think generously of his loyal pawns,
alive and dead, and his jousting knights,
urged and decorated; his adjutant rooks;
validate the blessings of his bishops

who, false or true, represent Belief; are bishops
to the masses.  Better to be a blessed king,
however dependent upon one's rooks
and the holy mobility of one's queen
and the valors of one's sacred knights
and one's solace in having fearless pawns

no matter they be middling: just pawns,
than one unblessed.  O transcendental bishops,
the thought of whom inspires a kingdom's knights
and clasps a cape of wonder on its king!
But, ah, the eyes of the goddess, the queen,
and the deft straight movements of the deep rooks!

What graces out of these!  Always a rook's
intrigue captures, readying behind the pawns
to be a last defense with the piercing queen
long after, perhaps, the ingenuous bishops
have gone; to be a fortress for its king
after the earth inters his bloodied knights

if not our memories of them.  Those knights
I'd often be, and have, and am; those rooks,
venturing for and enclosing my king,
whoever / whatever; and the squat pawns
too; and the slicing, nebulous bishops;
and that feudal jewel above all, his queen.

Though lost be his knights and squiring pawns
and castling rooks and angling bishops,
what a joyous king with a constant queen!


                                     (10-16-82)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-12

sw00973s-poem15

Scatterings



 Breakfast Lunch Supper Snack


Eat me, and the rats of Venice will swim in your blood.
Eat me, and the flowers of the sun will blossom across your synapses.
Eat me, and these gritty bland walls. . . .


                                                           (2-4-83)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-10

sw00972s-poem14

Scatterings



 Nuclear Weapons


Reach down;
pick up
a red
& brown
maple leaf
by its
stem.  Crush
that dryness
of edges,
veins, &
stiff contours
in your
curious hand
quickly, or
slowly, as
you wish/
but sensuously,
letting your
mind dwell
on how
easily it
was coaxed
to overkill
vulnerable beauty
even as
you are
vulnerable beauty
waiting, waiting.


          (????)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-10

sw00971s-poem13

Scatterings



 Accepting Intelligent Beings


". . . a third eye, say,
or blue hair covering
the nose and forehead,"
writes Carl Sagan
in The Cosmic Connection;
or orange skin,
or ten feet tall
and completely clothed
in light-green hair,
or suction cups
on their soles,
or phosphorescent behinds,
or webbed/ fingers & toes
and functioning gills,
or amoebic bodies,
or heads without
ears eyes noses mouths,
or presences
of mirror beams.


                           (????)



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-09

sw00970s-poem12

Scatterings



 The Eye of God


From the crescent of moon
white shore
the sun's windy light
excites the air

as up through waters shallow & clear
it draws against the bright sands
a scintillant transfixing hue
that takes away imagining

or so charges
the bodies here
they seem the mien of
Destiny

emerald
emerald
white   white
emerald   emerald   emerald


                                     11-27-82



-
Brian A. J. Salchert      2008-08-09

sw00969s-poem11

Scatterings



 Early FdL Fragment


      I

(To know me is to know the wind, for I
Am wayward in my chains; for when the lie
Of Europe rocked our world awake to reel
Again on ancient plains, my flesh would cry
Each night in trembling--trembling, though the heel
Of love would walk me hours long; though the tear
Of love would glisten.  War had made men kneel,
Desiring God and boys to end their fear,
While I could only whine at things too near.

But so was life's position marked/ before
I broke the womb.  And yet this wind was more
Than unseen whines: it was of love the third
Alive, a child of Winnebago's shore,
Of paradox and rhyme, a child unheard
And unaware that time had carved a goal
For him.  And now he slept: the one whose word
Would wring the core of every living soul,
The augur-wind, the Baptist of a thunder roll.)

One day when I was tricycle free, and air
Was summer, came the whom? of drums, the where?
Of brass.  In wonder wheeled response to both:


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-09

sw00968s-poem10

Scatterings



 Lines


There is a mystery that exists
Which only scholars well resist,
And Snodgrass wore the laurel right
That "April Inventory" night.


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-09

sw00967s-poem9

Scatterings



 Vision


I met a vision chalice
Gliding down a bend of white
All against the charcoal night,
All against my death.

I met a host of ivory
Half-hidden by that sacred rim;
No other seemed attuned to Him
But one beneath his breath.

No other seemed attuned to Him
As all against the charcoal night
I met a vision chalice;
I met the Host of sight.


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-09

sw00966s-poem8

Scatterings



 One for Easter

A stone rolled out will never return
Nor linen be used again,
Nor wise men prove
From cave to cave
That Christ was only
One of them;
For tunnel life is narrow life
And walls were meant to be despised,
And only those of candle strength
Are truly wise.


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-09

sw00965s-poem7

Scatterings



 Sir Thomas and the Marsh Mallow


Sir Thomas took a walk one day
  Along a Scottish fen
And there he met a little boy
  And said he'd come again.

Sir Thomas took a walk one day
  But found the boy was gone.
Is he at home, Sir Thomas thought,
  Or on the town square's lawn?

O I guess I cannot bother now
  With boys that disappear.
But o the mallow that he held;
  So early in the year!

If only I might find that globe
  And turn it once myself.
Yet, how could anything replace
  Its turning by an elf?

Sir Thomas, you're a goodly man;
  You pay your monthly debts.
Perhaps if you get close enough
  He'll let you touch, perhaps.

Sir Thomas,  a goodly man you are,
  But do you really care
To touch the spotted marsh mallow,
  Though it be round and fair?

The fen is such a swampy place--
  So full of mud and weeds--
That any wandering through such muck
  An idiot it needs.

Sir Thomas, you're a goodly man,
  But surely not a nut.
You'd better let the elf alone
  Get cold and wet: tut, tut.


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-08 

sw00964s-poem6

Scatterings



 In Honor of Beethoven


Resist the rainful cumuli of nine
Eternities?  It were as much a sin
To chain the bee, or once to undermine
The winter artistry of wind that's been
Delighting God, and men who bend enough.
Why, even streets that always shadow boys,
Since concrete hives eclipse the light they love,
Believe those clouds sufficient cause for joys.

Then let us run the measures of them; feel
That cool commotion their approach pursues,
Those grey toboggans sprayed with billowed snow.
Let us inhale the augur-air and keel
Against it, children touched by happy news,
Children wet with the full symphonic flow.


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-08

sw00963s-poem5

Scatterings



 Cinquain

Movement
So strange, so real,
All bound by hands and squares,
Free as autumn milkweed flights--
Human.


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-08

sw00962s-poem4

Scatterings



 To a Water Strider


Surface walker
Conqueror of where we drown,
How you burn in me; yet,
How your momentary glide and flash
Corral a hostile eye!
                    . . . damn it,

Thin frustrator,
Leveler of while we're proud,
I would cripple you, you,
Could my transitory god and flesh
Undo a foreign art.

--But you are less and less to me,
   And I am glad humanity
                    walks in depth.--


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-04

sw00961sl26-warning

 Warning


Don't swim in the water.
Don't swim in the wah-ahter.
Don't swim in the water.
The dump.
The dump.
The dump.

Don't swim in the water.
Don't swim in the wah-ahter.
Don't swim in the water.
The dump.
The dump.
The dump.

    Look what's in the water.
    Look what's in the water.
    Look what's in the water.
    The dump.
    The dump.
    The dump.

    Look what's in the water.
    Look what's in the water.
    Look what's in the water.
    The dump.
    The dump.
    The dump.



Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-04

sw00960s-poem3

Scatterings



 Song

"If you can't think, at least sing."
                             Theodore Roethke

And let the flowers die.
And let the webs unloosen to a ball.
There is no reason to abjure the sky--
There is no reason, son, at all.

If thinking makes your brook run dry,
Go spin your feelings through the eyes of wit;
Go spin the lily pads against the fly.
A song will/ make at least/ a stream of it.


   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-04

sw00959s-poem2

Scatterings



 Io


The summer elves are caves away,
All land and sea in fire play,
Cool earth accepts the sleepy toad;
The swallows now are mourned a day.
Determined here to curse or pray,
I can't deny a quiet road,

Though loath to leave my plot, unhoed.
Much better so to ease this load
And save my spirit from despair
Than stand much moved by autumn's goad,
Still: someone Charon has not rowed
Across the Styx for lack of fare.

A robin shivers through the air
To marshy warmth, and I'm aware
Twice over now that I must set
Aside these tools and make my care
Revolve no more around a spare,
Restricted world; but quickly get

Beyond these furrows--out, and let
My will explore from debt to debt
The trail the swallows took last night,
And how those people I have met
Will differ from those coming yet,
And how a year of green turns white.



   from Bare Roots and Ragged Limbs



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-03

sw00958sc-links.entry21

Scatterings
                                     [ Last modified: 2009-07-28 ]
                                                                   
[ This is a work-in-progress. ]


 [ This book's first poem is already online in this journal.
    Therefore, the initial link will be to that entry, an entry
    which includes an image of the chapbook it is in. ]

The Rueful Soldier
poem 1
-
Io
poem 2
-
Song
poem 3
-
To a Water Strider
poem 4
-
Cinquain
poem 5
-
In Honor of Beethoven
poem 6
-
Sir Thomas and the Marsh Mallow
poem 7
-
One for Easter
poem 8
-
Vision
poem 9
-
Lines
poem 10
-
Early FdL Fragment
poem 11
-
The Eye of God
poem 12
-
Accepting Intelligent Beings
poem 13
-
Nuclear Weapons
poem 14
-
Breakfast Lunch Supper Snack
poem 15
-
Chess
poem 16
-
Comfort
poem 17
-
Praise for Solzhenitsyn
poem 18
-
Milwaukee
poem 19
-
Preface
poem 20
-
Reflection .5
poem 21
-
Parable
poem 22
-
The air
poem 23
-
To ____
poem 24
-
Emptiness
poem 25
-
Recognition and Resolve
poem 26
-
Pattern
poem 27
-
March 1, 1972
poem 28
-
Repetitions
poem 29
-
Repetitions 2
poem 30
-
Wells Mfg. Corp. Plastics Department
poem 31
-
The New Seasons
poem 32
-
Name This River: Longhorn
poem 33
-
Untitled
poem 34
-
Pavan
poem 35
-
After Bar Closing
poem 36
-
Cautionary
poem 37
-
With Apologies
poem 38
-                                                
The Purple Fox                                    
poem 39
-                                                            
Three                                                       
poem 40
-                                              
Glints of the Sun                                       
poem 41
-                                                
The Owl-Man's Response                             
poem 42
-                                                 
Interlude                                      
poem 43
-
-



Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-03    see shdiary-d49 for poem1

sw00957d57--books-note

 Have been finding more old poems of mine.
Am going to begin a new book: Scatterings.
Will be using an "s" after the sw##### for it.
If my verses do not interest you, let the "s"
stand for skip.  Since it's already up and has
no home, "The Rueful Soldier" will be the first
one, and then the others from the chapbook
it's in which are not yet up.  Limiting this book
to old works, however, is not likely.  Since it
will have a link in it, the first Scatterings
entry will be: sw00958sc-links.entry21.                        

Yesterday I changed the title of my sonnet opus
to 1976 Today because I put back one of the
deleted poems and expect to be putting all back.
There are 13 left.  I've placed them in an offline
folder along with the original versions of the 2
which have been returned. 



-
Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-03

sw00956d56--birds-of-the-world

 Here is a link to www.earthlife.net

birds section

in which there is information about extinct birds.

-


Here is one to www.bsc-eoc.org

where there are links to other bird sites.




Brian A. J. Salchert    2008-08-02